This morning I wanted to write to you again, because I looked up into the sky. I know, that sounds kind of strange—wanting to write to you after staring into clouds and blue nothing—but I’m being serious. There’s a lot the sky reminds me of, about you.
That blue—that beautiful palette of shades fading into each other—reminds me of how complex yet graceful you are. You have a dozen different colors to you; a dozen different ways that you reflect your emotions, but they’re all one in the same. Just like the sky, it’s so effortless—so natural and smooth—the way you present yourself. Calming yet beautiful; curious yet mesmerizing; cool and a joy to wonder about. You might not see yourself that way, but artists never want to view their work objectively.
Come to think of it, the sun reminds me of you, too. It’s so bright, and so warm—it gives hope that the day won’t absolutely suck as it goes by. Sure, there might be some cold wind blowing, or some showers, but as long as you are there, people can look up and feel some respite from all that. And just like the sun, people take you for granted. You’re so needed. You are an ear for people’s troubles; a comforting hug for their depression; and a dance for their joy. Just like the sun, people overlook you in their daily lives sometimes. They just like that you’re simply hanging around. But I don’t; I’m beyond grateful for you.
Putting the whole of the atmosphere above us together is what makes you so unique. Somehow, you manage to encompass a lot of things into one seamless figure. You are filled with a tenderness to relax anyone, yet possess a boldness to standout. You give happiness for such a long part of the day for everyone; yet when you leave, things get colder and lonelier. You’re beloved and totally necessary, even when we don’t look up to take notice.
Yeah, I think you are like the sky. And you shouldn’t want to have it any other way.